#and now at least dandy can have a room

[creekbed-burial]

Spent the whole day at the gym and working on unpacking/setting up my childhood bedroom again and truly i am fuckin EXHAUSTED

[mayordea]

Happy birthday to the number one princess in the world!! 💖

~from her biggest fans :)

ramble of my scattered thoughts on the piece under cut as usual cuz i love talking 😋

This has been an idea I've been cookin for a while, and it was so cluttered and unlike any other ensemble piece I've made... and I decided I oughta do it anyway. I love Miku, I love Vocaloid, and I wanted to do something really ambitious and crazy for her anniversary. Crazy that she's turning her "canon" age this year TwT

I had the idea floating around since like, May...? And then finally started acting on it around June 18. I'm terrible with deadlines, obvious with how I can never make a silly birthday post in time, so I started wayyyy ahead to make sure I have some room to be lazy lol, especially with an idea as ambitious as this.

This was finished on July 12! So I had to sit on this for an annoying amount of time. Very difficult for someone like me who just wants to talk about everything I'm working on to the masses. But at the very least, that gave me the time to work on the draft for this post.

~~~

Here's some ~behind the scenes~ scribbles leading up to the finished piece!

Left is the chicken scratch plan i made in my handy dandy notebook (whenever things are getting real and ambitious, i always made a rough ROUGH plan in there. Usually I'd do a rough pass of the full thing, but this was too complicated for me to do traditionally. I majorly benefited from digital tools to make this possible). CyberDiva and CyberSongman were considered, but I ended up cutting them cuz I just didn't feel like drawing them sorry-- (just pretend they're off to the side. They gave Ruby and Clara the pizza lol). Right is the "final" completed sketch (before I decided to include Chika mid-way through coloring and VY1 and VY2 near the finish line). I started by drawing the main "groups" separated on a different canvas so I can plop them into the main canvas for easy rearranging and transforming. However I got lazy and ended up drawing everyone in the bottom right corner directly on the canvas since I liked seeing the big picture of everyone's positions. Y'know.

Almost excluded Chika! But I like her design so much that I just felt like including her last-minute. You win this time, Chika fans. VY1 and VY2 were very close to being cut! I added them when I began doing the banner and thought "eh why not". I figured their non-human designs would be pretty easy to include pushed back in the bg. Ik VY1 is more commonly associated with the fan design, but I referenced the hairpin cuz it was simpler and the fan looked very annoying to draw 😭

Sorry to the fans of many Vocaloids I had to cut because this composition was insane enough as is. I promise I wanted to include fellas like CUL, LUMi and Sachiko 😭 I will admit I was a little biased on who I wanted to include over others. Like, I don't normally care for Bruno and Clara, but I wanted to get some more international 'loids in the mix. Also wanted to stick in the realm of official designs and not fan-designs since, as much as I can appreciate those, are just a whole "wait who is that guy supposed to be" situation I didn't wanna deal with. I also did wanna include even more character references through the balloons, but they ended up being kind of ugly and overcomplicated the BG :,) (Oh, and while this was originally planned to be a Vocaloid-only piece, I did end up including Teto, Neru, and Haku 'cuz those are Miku's besties dude!!! They may not be Officially in the club but they're her girls and it would be criminal to not invite them to her birthday).

Anyway, this project marks the first time I've drawn a lot of Vocaloids. Lily, Piko, Rana, Yuki, Yukari, Miki, Maika, and many more lol. All of 'em I've heard or seen in passing, but now I actually drew them, and some have really cool and fun designs!! I got into a habit of drawing Merli after this since I just love her design for example. And I'll probably be drawing more lol!!

Oh and the last thing I'll add for now!! The cake is indeed made up of various song references!! I wanted to reference the "big four" producers, just absolute icons in Vocaloid history. The pink/black checkerboard is "World is Mine" (Ryo), the crescents on the side is "Rolling Girl" (Wowaka), the smiley faces is "Matryoshka" (Hachi), and the three hearts on the side is "The Vampire" (DECO*27, which is sort of a symbol of his whole Mannequin album tbh). I know "The Vampire" is a bit modern but I couldn't think of anything else off the top of my head. I'm a fake DECO fan I know 😔 "Matryoshka" was originally going to be referenced in the colors of the candles but believe me it looked like shit so I just went for something else last minute 😭

That's all I have to say!!! Hope you didn't mind the text wall if you made it here. I hope you like it as much as I do!!!! Happy freakin' birthday Miku!!!!

I have to deal with tagging all these characters now for my page,,, in the drafts my tags got cut off after a certain point so I think I'm massively breaching the tag limit 😭 um... I'll figure that out later...

not losing sleep that i can't tag everyone, even for page organization purposes because some characters have pretty generic names and some are a little hard to see in full yknow. If you're one of those people who tag every character in the art piece you reblog... I am very sorry.

[sickwhispers]

Wait... How did I get here?!!! Anyways while I'm here, the hc you made Abt dandy was very fun to read, can you make a part 2 pls 🥺

Hopefully you accept part 2 requests, btw you can jusr ignore this if you don't want to.

Hehe, hiii. Part 2 requests are completely allowed, don't worry. In fact, I'm flattered that you enjoyed it enough to request a part 2, so thank you for that!

THEY LOVE ME, THEY LOVE ME NOT (pt 2)

Pairing: Dandy x reader

Relationship: romantic (situationship again)

Warnings: I mightve made him yandere coded... woopsie, slightly sadistic

Type: headcanons + drabble

Surely now you understand why he had to do what he did

And, he can't help but find some sense of amusement in the way you nodded your head, eyes wide with a hint of fear behind their glossy look

He's sorry, he doesn't want to be mean

But... sometimes he thinks it's just a little cute how desperate you get when it comes to buying from his shop

"Nwah... I didn't even have to ask you this time! You must really like me, don't ya?" The smile on his face seemed to stretch as you tossed the last remaining tapes you had saved up during the last couple of floors. He never felt the need to ask you after every round anymore. At this point, he was certain you'd hand them over eventually.

He could tell you were nervous. The way your hands shook as you grabbed the medkit from his display of items. You were lucky, yknow. If it was anyone else, he'd only be giving them a couple gumballs and singular chocolate bars. But you? How could he keep all the best stuff hidden?

The others didn't understand him like you did. They had even tried asking you to distance yourself from him at some point. But, you'd never do that to him. He's your friend, and he has been ever since the beginning.

After seeing your reaction to his twisted form, he almost constantly felt the need to show it to you just one more time

To see the way your body froze, a deer in headlights and at the complete mercy of what you could only describe as a grotesque monster made of ichor

But, he also didn't want you to think of him as a monster

He found the way you shook in his presence cute, but that didn't mean he wanted you to shake every time you were in the same room together

Maybe, if he warmed you up to his twisted form more, you'd feel a bit less uncomfortable with the idea of letting him lay on you

Feeling you beneath him as he nuzzled against the top of your head, a claw of his tracing each line on your palm

Seeing you scared was fun, but he was always a fan of the domestic moments

Just having you by his side was enough to keep him happy, your constant presence bringing a comfort like no other

He was never sure why he felt this way

Honestly, the first time he felt it back when everything wasn't in total disaster, he had thought he'd caught some sort of sickness.

But no, he didn't, and it didn't take too long before he really found out why every time he saw you, his body seemed to tense

There was always a need to make you happy, to keep you smiling

So, despite the overwhelming sensation to bare his monstrous form just for you, he found himself opting to hold it back

For now, at least

Until your hands stopped shaking and your smile didn't hold some sort of strain behind its appearance

The glossy eyes were cute, but...

Only then would he try to get you used to the feeling of eyes boring into the back of your head every floor

He didn't want you to think of him like some sadist

Sure, he had some sadistic tendencies

But he's only joking!

No need to worry. He loves you. He'd never want to hurt you

Intentionally, that is

But, until the day he's able to show you the worst possible version of him without the fear of scaring you enough to leave forever

He's fine with pretending like he doesn't want you to shower him with all kinds of affection he could possibly think of

In both his toon form and twisted form

[transformers-spike]

Human SO giving TFP Ratchet a well-deserved break. Doctor gotta update his knowledge on anatomy, right?

Get his ass

Hours of watching Ratchet slave away at his workstation have taken their toll. You walk up behind him, confident enough he won’t accidentally crush you after dealing with the hyperactive-likes of Miko. “Hey docbot!” you cry out waving an arm at him. He turns around just enough to acknowledge your presence, massive brow plates furrowed into a wide V. “You should really consider taking a break now, it’s been at least…” you tap your chin thoughtfully – “20 cycles since you started your uh…” you gesture at the massive mechanical mass on his desk, “the thing.” To his credit, despite being clearly exhausted, he tones down the annoyance in his voice when he tells you he’s fine. Right, fine and dandy, you think. You’re half considering shimmying up his leg to get to his massive workstation, look him in the eye and tell him to clock in for the night. But before you can so much as touch his leg, he moves away from you, kneeling down to save your sorry ass neck from developing early onset scoliosis. “I appreciate your concern,” he says matter-of-factly, “but our kind can operate without rest for a considerable amount of time.” You almost wait for him to add something about humans being unable to withstand the same sort of stuff after the two-days-and-a-half all-nighter he watched you pull fuelled up on nothing but coffee and spite. Still, you are a shameless being, and so you overlook the judgment of his optics and reel him back in.

“Nope,” you shake your head. “Not when everyone else takes time to recharge, and especially not when you’ve been neglecting your energon intake.” You’re unsure if he seems more proud than frustrated when you give him his usual “get some rest” speech. You offer his pede a “that’s final” pat as he takes the time to contemplate his next course of action. While staring right at the thingamajig on his desk… “Alright,” you say with your hands on your hips, “well if you don’t want to stop working, guess little old me’s going to keep all their human anatomy for themselves.” You hide the evident smugness in your voice with whininess. Said whininess rings out just loud enough in the (thankfully) empty bridge room for you to cringe inside. Cybertronians have thinner face plating compared to the rest of their frames, which gives the energon underneath just enough transparency to come to the surface in what you’ve come to describe as a blueberry blue blush. Holy shit, you think. Did my lack of game actually work? “I won’t let you impale yourself on my spike,” he states with the finality of a death throw executioner. “I know I know,” you mumble sheepishly, “but what do you say?” You flash him a smile promising mischief. He gives you a final once over, ex-vents loud enough to have the noise reverberate in your ears, and gently offers you a hand to climb on.

Back in his berthroom, you grind against his interface panel with enough force to fuck up your zipper. Another pair of jeans ruined in this economy to Ratchet’s bemusement, even if he hides it under a good-natured scowl. “Well shit,” you say, proceeding to remove your pants and everything else on your person in the sexiest manner you can strip, which probably looks more like a headless chicken wrestling with the clothes it evidently shouldn’t be wearing. Not that Ratchet minds. His optics trail from the curvature of your neck to the moles and odd freckles bespeckling your chest before receding down to the stretch marks across your stomach and hips. As odd as it feels having someone – an alien lifeform no less – taking in the many flaws of your body, you feel no judgment emanating from him. You would assume the interest he has in your shape is aesthetic in a scientific manner, like a botanist observing the upturned petals of a newly discovered species – but the softness of his gaze indicates much more than that.

You don’t flinch when he reaches out an exploratory digit to stroke your skin – heck, you turn around and give him 360 access to everything he wants, completely unabashed by your own nakedness. Glancing over your shoulder, you can almost hear the anatomical jargon in his head as he traces a finger over your trapezius.

“Please don’t tell me you’re taking mental notes again.”

“My processor is resting just fine,” he responds. You’re halfway through calling him a liar when he scoops you up with ease and brings you to his lips. The kiss is featherlight, tickling the nerves between your trapezius and latissimus dorsi. You let out a short sigh of content and crane your neck just enough to kiss him right on his nose-ish area. It feels much harder than the rest of his face, probably because it’s part of his helm. Eh, you’ll ask later, you’re already far enough with your one way ticket to fingertown. Right on cue, his eyelids flutter open, blue optics draping warm light over your naked and suddenly too cold body.

You hear the familiar whirring of his interface panel and you send him a look of incomparable excitement as you glance from his rapidly pressurizing spike to his flushed face.

“Can I?” you ask like a child at an ax throwing competition. His vents flip to their third setting, but he nods cautiously.

Mass displacement, for all the three hour and a half explanation he gave you, may be completely off the table with team Prime’s worrying level of energon, but at this point you’re too excited to care.

He sets you down in his lap, close enough for you to finally get a good up close and personal look at his spike. Fuck human flashing, this thing literally glows with blue biolights, grey and metallic with the same orange accents of his frame. If you had any brain cells left, you’d be tempted to ask him if Cybertronians can cosmetically change the paint of their spikes. Sadly, you’re too busy ogling at his valve to care.

You crawl over to it and lean down to look into its upside down vastness like a cave explorer. Not a second later, your 300 IQ brain considers shoving your entire arm up his valve, if only to prove you can be just as good if not better than a Cybertronian in the berthroom (human ego and all). Just as fast as the thought appears, you’re now batting it away reminding yourself it’s too risky considering its piston mechanism. If it can take a 7 foot tall metal dick, you don’t want to find out how easily those walls can close around you and shatter your radius, ulna and humerus, and possibly turn your muscles into organic mush.

Oh shit. Naked and bent over like this he’s definitely gotten a good look at the entirety of your wiggling genitals while you were exploring his open interface panels. Quite the gentleman (and pervert you assume), he hasn’t mentioned your – ahem, situation until now.

Taking it in stride with overinflated confidence, you send a wink his way and immediately shove the tip of his spike into your mouth. If your jaw’s aching is anything to go by, going deep is most unwise – but Ratchet’s startled moan is all you need to go down another inch.

Whatever meager trust you’ve instilled in him is your one way to make your giant robot boyfriend overload so hard it cures his resting bitch face. You throw yourself into your work, mandibles threatening to give out as you bob your head up and down not even half of his spike tip.

“That’s enough,” he calls out, struggling to regain cognizance from the sound of his strained vocalizer.

His warning means well, but at this point you’ve sacrificed too much of your jaw to give up. You take your courage by the dick and go as far as you can without dislocating it, breath cut short by his sheer girth.

This, for all its meager worth, is just what he needs. Your remaining brain cell has enough foresight to constrict your larynx when his transfluid shoots down your throat.

“Spit it out!” he cries out like an underpaid teacher watching a student shove the class pet into their mouth. “You don’t know what it could do to your biology!”

You cough and sputter, but it’s too late, you’ve swallowed it whole. You turn to meet Ratchet who’s looking at you like he’s about to turn into an ambulance and cart you off to the hospital with June on speed dial.

“Hopefully get me pregnant,” you say with a wink, batting your eyelashes at the docbot.

[staylovesmiley]

Going Dumb~ Chapter 8

ᯓᡣ𐭩Pairing; Kim Seungmin x Fem!reader, Stray kids x Fem!reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩Summary; It had been over a decade since you had last seen each other, having met in choir when Seungmin was living with his grandparents in LA and you with your Aunt. Now that you are both presented adults, how will he handle a change to the reality of you he had made in his mind in your absence over the years?

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩 Notes; This is an ABO!AU. in this world when someone reaches puberty they will present with one of three sub genders; alpha, beta, or omega. Due to Alphas and Omegas experiencing rut and heat, some jobs are restrictive as to what sub genders they will hire, specifically singling out omegas as heat suppressants are harder to obtain than rut suppressants. Scent glands are located near the pressure points on the neck and small hormonal patches called scent blockers can be placed over them to reduce or rid an individual of their scent for a period of time depending on the strength of the hormones in the patch.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩Warnings; abo!au, beta!kim seungmin, almost all alpha!straykids, female!reader, poly!pack dynamics, angst, mild violence, mentions of sexual harassment/assault and discrimination, smut, enemies to lovers, Kim seungmin is kind of an ass I’m so sorry dandy boy, she/her pronouns used for reader, jealous seungmin, I have only ever wrote one abo story before but it is one of my favorite genres so I hope I can do this justice~

“What the fuck were you thinking, old man.”

Seungmin moved from his spot in the kitchen, going to hide himself away in his room to process what all had just happened while the rest of the pack remained in the living room, staring either at the spot where you and Han had previously been sitting or towards the room the two of you had escaped to.

The oldest sighed, taking a seat with his head in his hands as Changbin gave a reassuring pat to his shoulders. “Just give her some space, yeah? Then I think you ought to go and apologize.” The rapper was right, and everyone nodded in agreement before heading to their own rooms to unpack from their various trips over the break.

Minho, however, made his way over to where your room was located and gently knocked at the door. “Hannie, Bunny….please let me in? We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to but please let me just see you? It’s been so long-“ Before the alpha could finish his begging Han took pity on him and opened the door to pull him inside.

Once in the room, he saw you curled up on the bed with tear tracks staining your cheeks. His heart ached as he made his way over to you and laid down beside you. “Oh, cutie…” without a word you reached for the alpha, allowing him to pull you into his arms as Jisung settled behind you to wrap his arms around the both of you securely.

The three of you laid like that for a while, the only sounds in the room were the quiet sounds of your sniffles and the heating system working overtime as no one had closed the windows in the dorm since you and Han had opened them earlier.

The smell of caramel and coffee swirled around you and you allowed it to soothe your mind before slowly sitting up, the two alphas following suit. “He’s right you know…” came your voice, just above a whisper and Jisung furrowed his brows. “Like hell he is- you were right. We’re adults, so what if you helped me with my rut- so what if it triggered your heat…that’s what pack does.”

You shook your head, a bitter sweet smile on your face as you turned to look at the younger of the two alphas. “Hanji, it’s okay- I’m not saying I was wrong either. We didn’t do anything wrong helping each other out….but I should have called him or at the very least one of the other members and let them know what was going on.”

The dancer on the other side of you smiled softly, glad you were able to see where their leader was coming from. He placed his chin on your shoulder and pulled you until your back was flush against his chest. “Still- his words were unnecessarily cruel…you are pack, even if it hasn’t been made official yet. We all feel it-“

You looked down at your lap, expression somber as you let Minho hold you close to him. “Cruel as they are though he has a point- how could he want me to join the pack now if I’ve only proven to him I can’t be reliable enough to keep him in the loop on important matters….if I had just sent one of you guys a message about Han going into rut then we wouldn’t have worried you all so much.”

The two alphas shared a look over your head before Minho nuzzled his face into your neck and began pumping out more of his scent. “Bunny, you aren’t understanding what I said. You are already pack. In every sense of the word.” You let out a little whine of protest, wiggling in his grasp until he relented and let go for you to sit in the middle of the rapper and dancer and face them both. “You sure you aren’t just saying that to make me feel better? Chan seemed pretty sure back then…”

Han scoffed and rolled his eyes, arms crossing over his chest and Minho gave him a disapproving look before placing his hands on your shoulders so you’d give him your full attention. “Chan’s biggest fear is not being able to protect us all…and so yeah, he was worried when we couldn’t get a hold of you and you are right you should have contacted one of us, but he only said that out of anger at the situation…not at you.”

“Doesn’t make it right…” Han grumbled beside you and you looked between the two of them before sighing. “I need to talk to him…” Minho brightened up and nodded, motioning for you to go. “I think it’s a good idea. I think I heard him go to his room as I came over here to check on you two. If he is still being an ass just shout for me, yeah?” You giggled a bit, leaning forward to give the dancer a kiss to his cheek causing his face to heat up and Jisung to whine behind you.

“Hey! He gets a kiss when I’m the one who defended your honor back there? Where is my kiss-” You laughed, shaking your head. “You got waaay more than a kiss, Han-ah! No room for you to complain.” Minho teased, giving the two of you a wink and earning himself a pillow to the face from the younger alpha which turned into the two of them playfully wrestling on your bed as you quietly made your way out of the room and down the hall to where the pack alpha was hiding out in his room.

Once they settled down on the bed, Jisung pinned under a smug looking Minho, the younger of the two let out a whine. “Don’t be a sore loser, Han-ah~” the older alpha teased as he leaned down to nip at his neck playfully. “Not upset about that-“ he huffed, struggling against the dancer’s hold which he reluctantly loosened and let the other alpha sit up on his elbows beneath him. “It’s something I noticed when I came in here earlier….don’t you notice something’s off?”

Minho took a look around the room, eyes scanning for anything out of place. “I don’t think I’m following you, Hanji- explain?” The rapper sighed and scooted out from under him to stand by the bed. “You should know more than others that omegas are typically really…personable with their spaces, yeah?” The younger referenced the alpha having two omega parents, thus leading to Minho having more experience around omega’s than the rest of the pack by default since most of the other’s family consisted of alphas and betas.

“Well yeah but I don’t think I understand what you’re getting at.” He said as he blinked rapidly at the younger still stood by the edge of the bed. Han groaned, the palm of his hand coming to his the middle of his forehead as he threw his head back in mild frustration. “Look around, hyung! This room is so- bland.” He had a point, the dancer noticed as he looked around again.

There were little to no personal item’s displayed in the room, the bed still dressed in the generic bedding they had given you when you moved in from their closet full of spares. He glanced over to the open closet and saw a sight that made his heart clench tightly. “She hasn’t even unpacked her suitcases…”

Jisung nodded, a frown on his face as he crossed his arms over his chest. “She’s been living here for months now and she hasn’t even hung up a jacket or anything- it’s like…” the younger alpha trailed off, eyes falling to the floor as he was afraid to finish his sentence.

“Like she is prepared to leave at any minute…like she doesn’t feel permanent here.” Minho finished for him, sighing as he ran a hand through his hair.

After a moment of silence, the two alphas looking around the room until their eyes met. “Maybe we should…encourage her to make herself more at home? We could take her shopping for stuff to decorate the room with-“ Han suggested, his hands playing with the hem of his t-shirt anxiously as he tried to come up with a solution to make you feel more welcomed into their lives.

Minho nodded, a small smile on his face as he stood and pulled the younger alpha into his arms. “I think that’s a great idea, Han-ah. We still have a few days off, we can bring it up when she’s done talking to Channie.” The older placed a gentle kiss to the top of his head and the rapper beamed, nuzzling closer to the other alpha as their scents melted together smelling like a sweet caramel macchiato. “Can I ask something…personal? You don’t have to answer-“ Minho asked, a light blush creeping up his neck.

The younger simply gawked at the other with wide eyes. “Since when are you asking permission before asking personal questions? And to me of all people?” Jisung brought a hand to the dancer’s forehead. “Are you feeling okay?” He teased lightly, laughing as the other batted his hand away. “Yes- but this doesn’t just involve you so I wanted to make sure…um- when you two were together….h-how was it?”

The question made Jisung smirk, looking up slightly into the older alpha’s eyes with a little chuckle. “Really? Don’t you know curiosity killed the cat, hyung?” He continued to tease, poking at his side. “Ya! Just cause I love you doesn’t mean I won’t air fry you-“ he threatened playfully causing the younger’s eyes to widen comically.

“Okay okay- I’ll stop teasing it’s just…why do you wanna know?” The older shrugged, looking down as he watched where his arms were wrapped securely around the other alpha’s waist. “Just- like you said….curious-“ the rapper smirked again and nudged his nose against the base of Minho’s neck by his scent gland. “Hmm let’s go back to your room and I’ll tell you all about it, yeah?”

Minho didn’t need to be told twice, moving to grab the younger alpha’s hand in his before dragging him out of your room and down the hall, opposite from the way you had gone, to his room with the rapper giggling behind him at his eagerness.

Meanwhile, you stood outside the leader’s room seemingly having a staring contest with his door as you contemplated whether or not this was a good idea. Hesitantly you lifted a closed first to the wood and gave a few quick knocks. “Come in.” His voice called out, sounding soft and somewhat hesitant himself surly able to smell who it was outside the door before even seeing you with his eyes.

As you pushed the door open the smell the ocean washed over you and set your nerves on edge at how chaotic it seemed to smell in that moment, like waves crashing against a rocky shoreline. “Can we talk?” You said softly, closing the door behind you and leaning against it as if still trying to hold some distance between yourself and the alpha sat at his desk.

“Please?” He spoke, voice giving away the tears he had already shed and wiped away before you had sought him out.

You cautiously made your way deeper into the room and took a seat on the corner of the bed closest to where he sat. “You were right, Chan…I should have called you- or at the very least sent a message to anybody to let them know what was going on. I’m sorry-“ his head snapped up, turning in the desk chair to face you with wide eyes. “You’re apologizing to me? Bunny- you didn’t have to-…” he almost whined, rubbing the palms of his hands over his eyes before scooting closer so that your knees bumped against each others lightly.

“What I said about you not being a part of the pack- it’s not true nor is it what I think. I just- I was so worried about the two of you and so when I finally saw you were okay my mind couldn’t quite catch up with the relief I felt I guess and- and I just snapped.” You shook your head and reached out to place your hand on his knee so that he would meet your gaze.

Once the alpha’s eyes were on yours you gave him a weak smile and shook your head. “I understand…it doesn’t make it right, and I think we both have some stuff we need to work on- but I understand.” You sighed, placing your hand back in your lap as you looked around to avoid the intensity of his stare. “I also think part of the reason I didn’t reach out about it was….you guys hardly ever get a break- I was afraid you’d feel like you needed to rush back to take care of things when I had it under control.”

Chan nodded In understanding, rubbing at the back of his neck with a little chuckle. “Yeah that sounds like something I would have done, not gonna lie….” He sighed, shoulders slumping with defeat. “Still- in the future please let me know about stuff like this when it happens?” You nodded frantically, looking back into his soft brown eyes. “Promise- I’m sorry again for making you and the others worry so much…”

Now the alpha waves a hand dismissively before leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees with hand clasped in front of him. “All is forgiven, if you can forgive me for how I treated you because of it.” You gave him a smile, moving to place your hands over his. “I forgive you, Chan.”

The two of you sat there for a moment, sea salt and citrus floating in the air peacefully before you moved to stand. “I should probably go and let you enjoy the rest of your time off in peace- I’m sure you’re tired after all the traveling even if you didn’t work the whole time.”

Before you could walk away a hand shot out to take hold of your wrist gently. “Wait- actually would you mind staying? I feel like we haven’t gotten a chance to spend much time together as some of the others even after we started working together.” Your eyes widened as the realization dawned on you that he was right.

Since moving into the dorm and starting work as their assistant you had been to solo schedules or done hang outs with most of the members but the leader himself. The only time you’d ever spent around the alpha was with the group and even then your attention was usually occupied by whatever task you had been handed or one of the other members.

“Yeah, I’d like very much if we got to spend some one on one time together.” You said with a soft smile, letting Chan move you to sit back on the bed once again. “Do you wanna just chill? You weren’t wrong about the traveling being exhausting but I can put on a movie and we can just stay in?” His nervousness was visible and it caused you to giggle as he moved from his desk chair to turn on the tv and begin browsing through the options available to stream.

You smirked lightly, scooting back to make yourself more comfortable against the pillows at the head of his bed. “Considering my heat broke only a few hours ago I don’t really feel like doing much so that’s completely fine by me.” At the reminder the alpha felt his cheeks heat up slightly. “Ah- right…guess that works out for us both-“ he chuckled shyly before motioning to the tv. “Any suggestions? Not really sure what kinda stuff you like…”

After you helped him pick a movie, Chan moved to sit back against the pillows beside you and get comfortable as well. At first you both only sat side by side, arms brushing lightly against each other at the close proximity, but as the evening went on you found yourself curling more into his side and his arm found it’s way around your shoulders to hold you closer.

By the time you were on your third movie together you had somehow both ended up under the comforter with your upper body half draped over his and your legs semi tangled together. Your arms were wrapped around his waist loosely while his were around your shoulders, the sound of his heartbeat in your ear where your head rested against his chest mixed with the calming scent of the oceans breeze lulling you slowly into slumber as your eyes began feeling heavy.

Noticing your breathing had evened out and the hold you had on him loosened considerably the alpha glanced down where you lay to see you had fallen asleep, chuckling lightly before reaching down to pull the comforter more securely around your sleeping form. He felt himself growing tired as he yawned behind his hand and carefully shifted to a position more comfortable for the two of you before letting himself drift off as well.

The next morning Changbin and Hyunjin went searching for the pack leader so that the three of them could hit the gym before it got too late, but upon pushing his bedroom door open they were met with the sight of the two of you tangled up and snoring together in the middle of his bed. Hyunjin giggled, hiding his face behind his hands while Changbin stared wide eyed. “Looks like mom and dad had some bonding time.” Changbin teased while the pair of alphas stepped further into the room.

At the sound of others in the room you began to stir from your slumber and peek a sleepy eye open at the two intruders. “Morning? God- what time is it?” You said groggily as you turned to look at the clock on the table behind you. At seeing it was only half past six in the morning you whined and rolled back over to muzzle your face back into the place where Chan’s neck met his shoulder as the alpha in question tightened his hold around you subconsciously in his sleep.

Hyunjin took a seat on your side of the bed while Changbin sat on Chan’s, the two sharing a look before laying their full body weight across the both of you horizontally. Their attempted wake-up call failed as you simply let out a little giggle and muffled out a “hmm like a weighted blanket” and continued to doze off beneath the alpha pair.

As the dark rapper and versace prince began to shout and laugh playfully at how you could just go back to sleep Chan woke up with a groan, arms slipping from around you so that he could cover his ears with both hands. “Ya- will you two quiet down?! The rest of the house is trying to sleep-“ seeing that their intended target was awake, the two younger alphas did as he asked and ceased their yelling to give the leader their best puppy eyed looks.

“Hyung, let’s go to the gym while it’s still early!” Changbin said cheerily, Hyunjin nodding enthusiastically at his side before the two sat up so the oldest could do the same. Chan rubbed the sleep that remained from his eyes and chuckled lowly due to his voice being deeper than normal from his slumber. “Sure, let me get changed and I’ll meet you at the door.”

With a triumphant cheer, Changbin and Hyunjin jumped up and raced to the front entrance of the dorm to wait for their leader to join them. As Chan got up and began getting ready to leave you let out a whine of disapproval. “Come back- bed’s cold without you…” he let out a laugh and shook his head. “What am I to you, a personal heater?” You nodded, eyes still closed as you were still too tired to find the strength to open them. The alpha found this side of you endearing, a giggle slipping from him as he finished pulling on his gym clothes and grabbing all he would need for the mornings work out session.

In one last half hearted and sleepy attempt to stop him from leaving you reached out for him with a huff and a pout. Chan simply laughed again and shook his head while heading for the door. “I’ll send someone in to take my place, m’kay? Cant have you freezing to death on us now can we.” He teased, leaving before you had the chance to respond.

author’s note: I hope you all enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it~ as always I appreciate and love your feedback anytime I see a comment or a reblog I get so excited I can’t help but check it asap and then have to hold back responding after only like two seconds after I received the notification hehe- but anyways lmk who you think Chan is gonna send to cuddle with Bunny~~ I’m always curious to hear you guys predictions about what may happen next im so nosy by nature lol

taglist; (pink users mean I wasn’t able to tag) @coastinglove @skzswife @maisyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy @doitforbangchan @chartrucewhore @sebastianswhore13 @finnydraws @bahablastplz @0325tiny @motheraiya55 @confusedabouteverythings @hellevator-143

[yokohamapound]

BSD Characters React to Getting Shat On By A Bird 🕊️

No, I'm totally not writing these to make myself feel better after getting bird-splattered on my way home from work. T-T

Characters: Osamu Dazai, Nakahara Chuuya, Kunikida Doppo, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, Nakajima Atsushi, Sigma

Contents: 💩

Osamu Dazai

Dazai might react in one of two ways.

If he's on his own, it's a muted, annoyed kind of disgust. He just feels the impact and sighs.

"Ugh, really?"

He might shove his head into the Yokohama river to try and wash it out. Whether or not he remembers to pull his head up again is another story.

If he's around other people, however, Dazai hams it up more than a pig in a blanket.

His whole body clenches, his shoulders hunching toward his ears and his hands hovering near his hair but not quite touching it. His face is an exaggerated rictus of disgust.

"Get it off, get it off, get it off! Eww!"

He runs at Kunikida and tries to wipe it off on him, only to get himself punted across the room. That isn't enough to stop Dazai, though. He'll theatrically pour water over himself, retching, gagging, and bemoaning his bad luck and the cruel fates for doing this to him.

Nakahara Chuuya

Thankfully, Chuuya's lovely red hair is safe from the bird shit thanks to his hat, but on the other hand, his hat. He freezes as soon as he feels the splatter against his hat. Reaching up slowly, he takes the brim of his hat between thumb and forefinger and lifts it off his head.

Chuuya's face contorts with anger and disgust. There's shit on his hat. There's shit on his hat.

He resists the urge to drop the hat in disgust, since that might damage it further. Instead his ire snaps upward toward the bird that just ass-bombed him. Little does it know that its victim is not bound by the laws of gravity. Chuuya can follow it.

And that he fucking does.

He shoots into the air, cracking the asphalt underfoot, and goes gunning after the hapless bird, which is probably terrified to find a pissed-off ginger zooming after it at mach speeds.

Later, once the bird is 'taken care of' Mafia-style, Chuuya will take his soiled hat to a specialist cleaning place. Yes, he's got a hat cleaning place—this is Chuuya we're talking about.

Kunikida Doppo

Kunikida does not have time for this. Perhaps it is a personal failing, but he didn't account for the potential of being shat on by a bird en route to the office in the morning. Now he's standing there with egg on his face and crap on his hair, regretting his life choices.

Frustration builds in him like a volcano, but he forces himself to take a deep breath. As long as he is calm and rational about this, it should not impact his precious schedule too much.

Thankfully, he does have all manner of supplies to hand. Namely a water bottle and a handkerchief to try and clean himself off as best he can in the nearest reflective surface. He uses his handy dandy notebook to conjure up a solid shampoo bar and cleans himself up.

All in all, he only ends up being three minutes, thirty-seven seconds late to the office. No one even notices, but Kunikida is left irked for the rest of the day. Also, he doesn't know how but he's sure Dazai is behind it somehow. Maybe he's been teaching the birds how to target blonde men with glasses, preparing months in advance for just this day.

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

Akutagawa goes still, and his eyes go very, very wide, until you feel like you're staring down tunnels into the Abyss. The bird guano is stark white against his dark hair. His nostrils flare.

"RASHOUMON."

A tendril of darkness slices from the back of his coat and slashes the bird in midair, sending feathers spiralling down to dust the earth around him.

He stares down at the offending creature's carcass like an god of dark justice.

"Foul beast."

Growing up in the slums, Akutagawa was used to being dirty, covered in mud, blood, and all kinds of filth, but he will not take the disrespect of any man nor beast, least of all a pigeon.

Nakajima Atsushi

This is not the first time for poor, unfortunate Atsushi, and probably not the last. He flinches when the splatter lands on top of his head, automatically closing his eyes. He's used to being spat on or having food poured over his head.

"Ah, jeez."

At least the bird crap isn't personal.

Atsushi probably just snips off the locks of befouled hair and then scrubs his hands. His hair is already a tufty mess, and he's usually too busy running around for the Agency to run home and shower again. That is, until Kunikida hears what happens and sprays him with disinfectant.

Sigma

Poor Sigma. Doesn't he have enough on his plate without being target practice for a bird who doesn't eat enough fibre? He's under enough stress already.

The bird shit is the tipping point, and he might just cry.

His face twitches when he feels it. The cold dollop on his head, ruining his pretty hair, making his neck want to retract back into his spine. His eyes widen as he looks upward to see the feckless offender flying away, soon lost to the horizon as it flies beyond the reach of the Sky Casino.

Sigma gags, his hands fluttering a little as he doesn't know what to do. He's only three years old and this has never happened to him before.

He runs toward his private quarters, lest anyone see the General Manager looking so undignified. He flings himself into his bathroom and sticks his head directly under the shower, running the water as hot as he can stand.

He washes it twice. Thrice. Then wraps it in a hair mask and huddles in his quarters with a stiff drink and his hair in a towel. Poor thing.

[penkura]

Inspired by this post from @xxchaosjojoxx, I had to run with it and do one for Shachi, it just came to me and I couldn't NOT do it. 💚

Orca man needs all the love, too. 💚

Oh shit oh no gotta hide!

Nearly throwing himself around the corner, Shachi does his absolute best to hide from you. He cannot see you right now, not when he’s being forced to tell the truth no matter what question he’s asked! All was fine and dandy when he went into town with Penguin and Bepo, until they were ambushed by some other pirates. Of course they were no match for this trio, but unfortunately Shachi was hit with a devil fruit that has left him unable to even tell a little white lie for the next 48 hours, and he’s terrified at the thought of having to speak to you right now.

What if you ask just the right question and he reveals the crush he’s had on you for years now?? He can’t risk it! Every time he’s seen you today he’s run and hid away, confusing you immensely. You think you’ve done something to upset the red head and hate the idea that you did so, but you can’t even pin him down long enough to ask. Penguin won’t even tell you! He just laughs and pats your shoulder, telling you to keep trying, you’ll trap the orca man eventually and get the reason why out of him.

It’s not like he wants to see Shachi suffer through an unplanned, likely fumbled confession, but it would be entertaining after he’d gotten the two in trouble last week for falling asleep on the job. Law wasn’t happy about it and neither was Penguin even though he swears Shachi fell asleep first. At the very least it stuck the two of them with you on kitchen duty the next day, Shachi spent most of the time joking around and trying to flirt with you, but you didn’t seem to catch on.

Penguin has half a mind to shove you into his and Shachi’s room, forcing the confession and subsequent response from you. He’s sick of hearing his friend moan and whine about how much he likes you but how he's so convinced you don’t have even the slightest but of romantic feelings for him, even though Penguin knows that’s not true. Ikkaku and Hakugan have told the older man how many times you’ve done the same thing as Shachi, yet somehow you can’t tell when he’s flirting with you. It’s so annoying.

Shachi just watches you and Penguin from around the corner, ducking back behind it when you nearly see him. He’s already been asked some embarrassing questions by Uni, Ikkaku, and Clione once they found out, but he’s begged everyone to keep this incident from you. He just can’t deal with this, he’s going to hide for the next 48 hours until he’s absolutely sure that the powers have worn off and he’s not going to spill his guts about his feelings to you if you ask a simple question like “what’s up” or “can you help me out” or “Hey why the hell have you been avoiding me”. He’s sure you’re wondering what’s going on, but he’s got to hide, he’s not ready to tell you anything yet!

“Not ready yet?! It’s been five years, dude!”

He knows Penguin’s right but Shachi just hasn’t figured out the words to tell you. He wants it to be perfect even if it takes a few years more.

He's not too keen on the idea of it just being blurted out because of an enemy’s powers. Instead of hanging around any longer, stressing about if his feelings for you are going to be revealed today, Shachi takes off down the hall, trying to be quiet so you don’t realize you really did see him. He doesn’t want you coming after him right now.

Penguin has other ideas though. Once he’s sure Shachi is gone to their room, he puts an arm around your shoulders and starts leading to that way himself.

“He’s just been ignoring me ever since you guys got back…every time I try to talk to him he runs off, did I do something?”

“No, no, don’t worry, you didn’t do anything, “ Penguin pats your shoulder while you hum like you don’t believe him, “I’m sure he’s back in our room, I’ll stay outside while you talk to him, okay?”

“So you can eavesdrop or keep him from running away?”

He laughs which makes you smile, once you get to their room and he grabs the doorknob.

“Just stay behind me and don’t say anything.”

You nod and hide behind Penguin, holding onto his boiler suit, while he enters his room and greets Shachi, who is laying face down in his bed.

“Come on, you can’t hide for the next two days, man. [Y/N] thinks she did something!”

“But she didn’t!!” Shachi whines into his pillow, Penguin rolls his eyes while you listen, “It’s not her fault, I just…uuugggghhhh this is the worst….”

“You should just tell her dude, whether or not you’re forced to.”

“That’s not how this should go, man!” Sitting up, Shachi lets out a trusted sigh before taking off his hat to run his hands through his hair, “I…she deserves a better confession than me being unable to control my mouth cause of a devil fruit, you know?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Confession??”

Penguin sighs while Shachi’s eyes widen when he hears your voice, you finally stick your head out from behind Penguin. Shachi sends a glare at his friend who shrugs and starts to leave, saying he’ll give you two some time, before a pillow hits the door.

“Not cool, Penguin!!”

“Oh well! Have fun talking!”

Neither of you say anything but Shachi’s bright red face tells you enough, even as he picks his hat back up and tries to pull it fully over his face to hide from you. When you still don’t say anything to him, he starts mumbling to just forget about it, this isn’t right, you obviously don’t feel the same for him. He still wishes he could’ve told you in a different way, even though he hasn’t even said anything more, he doesn’t fully notice you coming over and seating yourself on his bed until you take one of his wrists in your hand to make him look at you.

“Shachi, do you have feelings for me?”

“Yes, I do.”

“How long have you liked me?”

“…five years…”

That’s a surprise to you, just like the fact he actually does like you too. You never guessed it, you always thought the flirty comments he made were just him joking around and trying to get a rise out of you, despite Ikkaku trying her best to convince you that he really did have a crush on you. But the fact it’s been five years, you can’t believe it! You’ve been with the Heart Pirates for six years, and only had your own crush on Shachi for the last two years! It makes your heart flutter and your chest feel warm, especially when you hug Shachi tightly, even though he’s a bit slower to return it.

“I’m so glad because I like you too~”

He’s just as surprised as you were, even with the smile you give him that he returns before laughing.

“I…sorry, I should’ve just told you…”

“Mm…yeah, probably, but I should’ve told you two years ago when I realized my own feelings.”

“Wait, wha—”

Shachi doesn’t get to say anything else because of you shutting him up with a kiss, but he’s completely fine with it. It’s definitely not how he would’ve liked to tell you, though he really can’t complain when it worked out positively for the both of you.

It's unfortunate you ended up asking him a lot of different questions that he had to answer because of that devil fruit. At least you were sweet enough to give him a kiss for every answer.

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter One Two

TW : Abuse of authority, alpha male, sexual harassment, the word “no” is not in this man’s vocabulary, nsfw, angst, forced proximity

After a hellish 24 hour shift, you’re starting to think you should have taken him up on his offer. Give me a foot rub then get the fuck out. However, it most definitely would not have ended at only a foot rub. You know yourself too well to think you can keep your grubby hands off that man in any sort of private, intimate setting. Yeah, you’re staying the hell away from Ludlow. 

It’s gross, but you don’t even take a shower, and pass out cold on the couch as soon as your rat's nest of hair hits the throw pillow. 

Dark, honey eyes welcome you to the land of unconsciousness. The place where you can’t control your disobedient vagina so easily. And, apparently, she liked Tom Ludlow a lot. Especially his hands. Fuck. Thick fingers, surprisingly gentle and teasing, tucking up inside you, coaxing at that sweet little spot you can’t quite get at on your own. His mouth swallowing your moans, tongue licking urgently against your teeth, practically eating you alive. Something hard and velvet pressed against your thighs. 

A loud knock wakes you up in the same position you started at. Face down on the couch, except now feeling even grosser because of the slick arousal between your legs. You stumble to the door, pull it open. It’s Ms. Higgs, your sweet next door neighbor. 

“Oh, hello, y/n, I heard…. Yelling? Is everything okay?” 

You look at her stupidly. “Yelling….?”

“Yes, it sounded like you were in distress. Sorry, is this a bad time?” She eyes your just-got-hit-by-a-semi-truck appearance, complete with gore and all. 

Oh. The dream. Oh… oh. You feel yourself freeze despite the embarrassed heat warming your skin. “Uh.” Yes, great, make her think you’re out of your mind. You try a terse smile. “Oh. Sorry. I had a long shift and I must have been having a nightmare.” 

How in the hell did you pass nursing school?

Thank God she looks like she wants to leave as soon as possible. “Right. Well.” Clears her throat. “I’m glad you’re okay. Have a good day.” She moves fast for an older woman, shutting herself back into the apartment next door before you can bid goodbye. 

Your neighbor now hates you, and you’re definitely blaming Ludlow for it. 

Shower, eat, masturbate. No, wait. Masturbate, then eat. No. Eat first so then you can masturbate as many times as it takes to get Mr. I’m a Pretty, Dark Eyed Cop With Huge Hands - 

You have to literally pinch yourself to stop this train of thought from turning into a derailed crash. 

Your plans fail miserably, and that is actually Ludlow’s fault, but you refuse to admit it. At least you’re eliminating two steps at once with the handy dandy shower head.

And then again after you eat. And then again in your bed. And, damn, you really need to invest in a vibrator like Sheila told you to do a long time ago. 

You don’t consider yourself a prude by any means; there’s just no time for adult toys or one night stands. Your job, more often than not, consumes your life, and you like it that way. The fast pace, the interesting medical anomalies you get to see, your funny coworkers, cute and oh so nice Dr. Julian who brings you all Starbucks on Sundays. You usually pick up more shifts than you’re scheduled, fueled by rising violent crime rates in the inner cities. There is a satisfaction in bringing someone back from the dead, especially someone young with their whole life ahead of them. Grim Reaper? Psh. Kiss my ass. 

***

Sometimes you need a break, and these next two days you have off are going to be that time away. 

Except, on the second day, you’re bored, so you end up going in for an eight hour shift. 

You have a bad habit of not viewing your patient’s info before you get into their exam room, favoring the ol’ fashioned method of actually looking at the person instead of a computer. As soon as you walk into your next assigned room, however, you vow to change your messy bitch ways. Handsome Cop - the one you refuse to admit you spent two full days rubbing yourself off to - sits on the cot, grinning at you like the cat that caught the mouse. 

You do feel a little bit like a tiny mouse under that hefty stare, scurrying in and going right to the computer so you don’t have to make eye contact longer than necessary - well, long enough for ruined underwear. 

“Hey.” 

“Hello, did your stitches come open?” You try to maintain a strictly professional voice, but you can tell by the sharpening of his grin it’s not working. 

“What? You’re not gonna fight with me today?” 

“Do nurses fight people where you’re from?” Here you are, playing into his game. Stupid. 

“There she is.” 

Your jaw tightens. “What are you being seen for, Mr. Ludlow?”

“Ouch, surnames? Really?”

“Surprised you know what that big word means.”

His gorgeous eyebrow cocks as he looks around the monitor at you, and you tuck yourself further behind the computer to hide. 

“Okay, okay.” He puts his hands up in surrender. Well, he puts his right hand up. His left can only rise so far into the air. “Yeah, I tore them.” 

“Can you show me?” 

He strips his shirt, revealing a long, toned torso that belongs in X-rated cinema instead of bed number 3 at the South Bay General ED. 

“Have you ever heard the phrase, close your mouth or you’ll catch flies?” He asks. 

“It’s actually, shut your mouth or you’ll catch flies.” 

“Okay, how about this one: My eyes are up here, darling.”

First of all, you didn’t even look at his bare chest that much. He’s definitely exaggerating. Second of all, well - ugh - second of all fuck you, Ludlow. 

His stitches are busted open right in the middle. You have to unstick the bloody dressing carefully and then spray the center with some antiseptic. 

“You should be more careful.” Is it just you or does he smell different tonight? Less sweat and copper, more spice and cardamon.

You do your best to shake it off. Plenty of men wear cologne everyday–it doesn’t mean he got cleaned up just for you. 

“I don’t really have anyone to be careful for.”

“Get a dog?” 

“What’s your favorite color?” 

“What why? I don’t know, blue?” 

“So I can pick out a collar you’ll like.” 

He’s joking, but the feral urge to jam your thumb right into his tearing wound is palpable. 

He realizes he fucked up when you don’t have a witty retort. 

“Oh, fuck. I didn’t mean that you’re a bitch.” If you’re giving him credit, he at least looks sorry. And sorry looks far too good on him. The big grinning Doberman turns into a wide eyed puppy dog and it makes your heart squeeze tighter. “I’m sorry. I just meant - hey, hey.” He tips your chin up so you can see the apology in his softened eyes. “I’m an asshole.” 

You flick his hand away. “Don’t touch me.” 

He must be hard of hearing, because he dwarfs your arm in his grip and pulls you closer. “C’Mon, little nurse. Now you have to let me make it up to you. Let me buy you a fancy dinner or something.” 

Pulling away is not an option, so you come up with a better idea. “Okay, fine. I will. If you can answer one question.”

He looks delighted by this. “Try me.”

“What’s my name?” 

You relish the sight of his smile wiping clean. The big grin transfers from his face to yours. 

“Seriously?”

“Well?” It’s your turn to raise a cocky eyebrow.

He tries to flip your badge frontward, but you slap his hand away. He’s quick, catches your wrist, pulls you closer so that your body is pressing into his calves, traps both of your hands in one of his and spins the badge so that he can see your picture and name. He repeats it, first and last, grins back with a vengeance. This little tussle really bruises your ego, because it doesn’t even seem like you made him wince or falter even once.

“Cheater,” you snarl. 

“Takes one to know one.” 

“Let me go.” 

“Make me.” 

“I’ll scream.” 

“Oh yeah you will.” He winks. 

Fucking sexy bastard. 

“Want those stitches worse or better?” You threaten. 

“I don’t really care,” he shrugs, eyes light with humor. “Just did it to come see you anyway.” 

“You tore your own stitches?” 

“No. Someone else did after I insulted their mother.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.” 

You put him back together once again (you might have to start calling this man Humpty Dumpty, that will put him in his place) and start to peel off your gloves. “So when can I pick you up?” he asks, those dark eyes shining like high-polished ebony. 

“Half past never?”

“Hey, we had a deal.”

“We did, but then you cheated. Manhandling me at work is a major disqualification.”

“Pretty sure you liked it,” he fires back with a smirk.

You sigh, propping a hand on your hip, because he’s not wrong. You’re more than a little touch starved at the moment, and you’re sure the ease with which he manhandled you will haunt your dreams (your poor neighbor!) and fuel your fantasies for weeks to come. But there’s just something about this guy that warns you not to give in this easily. He feels…a little dangerous. To your physical health, or your personal sanity, you’re not sure. 

“Please try to be more careful with your stitches, Mr. Ludlow. Have a nice day.”

Understanding that he’s being dismissed, he stands, one step in the small room bringing him right in front of you–and boy, does he tower over you. You try to conceal how very much you like that, but fear you betray yourself in the shaky exhale that escapes you. “I’m just going to keep coming back,” he tells you, seeming far too pleased by the idea. 

“For your own health, I certainly hope you don’t.”

“I’m in a dangerous line of work. All sorts of things can happen.”

You pick up what he’s putting down pretty quick, and it annoys the shit out of you. “If you get yourself hurt on purpose, that is not on me.”

“Then save me some pain, sweetheart. Didn’t you take an oath or something? Do no harm?”

“That’s doctors. I took a pledge to practice my profession faithfully–which I’m doing. Didn’t you? What happened to ‘Serve and Protect?’”

“Sure thing. And I keep my oaths too.” The weight with which he looks at you makes something warm and uncomfortable coil in your belly, radiating outwards to your fingers and toes. 

A man who keeps his promises? 

Never heard of him. 

You are too young to be this jaded, but maybe it’s better that you learned the hard lessons quicker than most. Maybe it will save you some pain in the interim. Avoiding this utterly edible man in front of you probably falls into that category. 

You stand silently, waiting for him to leave. He seems to find this funny as hell, and tips an imaginary cap down at you. “See you soon, y/n.” 

You hope not, but you’re afraid that’s a promise he’ll keep. 

[desertfangs]

“ am i not good enough? ”  Armand/Daniel :)

The pressure builds in his chest as he watches Armand doting on Sybelle and Benji as he speaks to Rose and Viktor. He ruffles Benji’s hair affectionately, and pats Sybelle on the shoulder softly, planting a kiss on her cheek. They both beam at him, so much love in their eyes.

Daniel’s stomach churns. All he can think of is Armand’s book, of the way he dismissed Daniel as a demented, morbid romantic who could not stand him, who had never really known or loved him. 

He’s trying so hard not to think of those words and to instead understand Armand’s love for these two beings, but it’s so damn weird to stand here in Armand’s house, watching him with his new family whom he’s only just met. He and Armand used to be inseparable and now he’s just a guest watching him from across the room. 

He’s been here over a week and he still feels wholly out of place, unable to sit and relax anywhere, so he stands against a wall, trying not to take up space. Marius is in a conference room with Lestat and some of the others, making plans to go to France. Daniel was hoping to catch Armand alone, but no luck. 

Benji of all people glances up and looks at Daniel curiously, titling his head in a way that reminds Daniel of Armand. Maybe Daniel forgot to guard his thoughts. It’s hard, with all the immortals here, to keep the walls up. 

Benji says something to Armand, who looks over at Daniel. And suddenly Daniel wishes vampires could turn into smoke and he could just vaporize on the spot. 

His breath catches as Armand breaks away from the group and heads toward him. He’s stunning, as usual. He’s wearing an ivory sweater and dark denim jeans. His russet hair hangs long and loose around his pale face and rings adorn his fingers. He’s so beautiful Daniel could weep and as he comes closer, Daniel can’t breathe. No air wants to enter his dead lungs. 

Armand’s amber eyes rake over Daniel who suddenly feels lacking in his worn jeans and t-shirt. “Are you all right?” 

Daniel nods. Fine, yeah, just dandy. He struggles not to laugh and Armand can’t hear his thoughts. Before he can verbalize the sentiment, Armand speaks again: “Good. I want all my guests to feel at home.”

Daniel’s heart sinks. He’s just another guest. Of course. What else would he be?

“Thanks,” Daniel says, the word coming out short and terse. Armand stares at him, and Daniel shifts uncomfortably. He points to the ceiling. “Nice crown moulding.” 

Armand frowns slightly. He glances back at Sybelle and Benji, eager to return to that conversation and escape this awkwardness. Why the hell did he come over, anyhow? What did Benji tell him? 

“Every inch of Trinity Gate was meticulously designed,” Armand says. “No detail spared.” 

“So I see,” Daniel says. It really is an impressive house, more intricate and detailed than their Villa in on Night Island, though Daniel prefers the latter. 

Armand reaches out and tears a loose thread from the sleeve of Daniel’s t-shirt. He doesn’t say so but Daniel can practically hear him wondering why Marius allows him to dress like a vagrant. Instead, Armand pockets the thread and says nothing. He wishes he would. At least if they could argue—

Sybelle laughs across the room and the others all join in. Daniel’s stomach churns as Armand turns and smiles appreciatively at them. 

“Am I not good enough?” Daniel asks, the question tumbling out before he can think about what he’s saying. 

Armand turns back to him suddenly. “Whatever do you mean, Daniel?” 

Anger roars up at the way he plays dumb, the way he acts like it’s an absurd thing to ask. And maybe it is. Maybe there’s really nothing left to say between them. Except that when he looks at Armand, all he wants to do is pull him close and hold him there, and he can’t. There’s this weird glass wall between them now and he hates it. 

“As a fledgling,” Daniel says. 

Armand’s brow furrows briefly and then his expression smooths out, becoming impassive stone. “You have strong blood.” 

Daniel laughs scornfully. “Yeah, yours,” he says. “That’s not what I meant.” 

Armand looks back at his beloved children with Rose and Viktor, people he adores and whose company he can stand. Daniel turns to leave. Armand grabs his wrist. 

“Of course you are. What a thing to ask,” Armand says, as if he’s a fool. And he is. He’s here, blurting out questions he doesn’t want the answers to.

“Yeah, sure,” Daniel says. He pulls away and heads for the foyer. He’ll go for a walk, go kill some evil bastard and slake his thirst and maybe then he’ll feel better. 

Armand follows him to the door. 

“I just need to hunt,” Daniel tells him. He opens the coat closet and digs out his jacket. It’s too light for the climate and it’s raining out, but it will do. Armand is still watching him wordlessly, infuriatingly still and silent. Daniel wants to shake him and demand to know what he wants. What he feels. If he still loves him at all. But he doesn’t dare ask. “Do you want to come?” he asks instead.

Armand tilts his head, a gesture that always makes Daniel feel like he’s trying to get inside his mind. Then Armand pulls a wool coat out of the closet and shrugs it on.

“Lead the way,” Armand says. 

Relief washes over him. It’s not enough. Not by a mile. But it’s a start. 

[puhpink]

The elevator isn't as loud as others may believe.

Rodger is a detective. At least, he's pretty sure he is. He's a mascot and an dectective, which is a little hard to be. It's a little hard to be anything at all, in the elevator.

Regardless, Rodger is a detective. He notices things. That is one thing he's very skilled out: making the small details larger. That, and collecting facts.

Fact: none of them are real.

It's a little difficult to explain. Rodger is a toon, a mascot. He was roughly "born" sometime in the 80s or 90s. That is to say, he is not "the" Rodger from "Dandy's World", a cartoon for children. He's a recreation of that Rodger, given demension and physcial form.

Most toons don't like to be reminded of that, so it's a fact he keeps to himself.

Rodger cares for his friends. This is a fact, but it's more of a personal statement. He's not friends with everyone, really only close with four people, but he knows of everyone. The human brain can handle over one hundred relationships, though, it's not as if Rodger is human.

Regardless, Rodger is a detective. It does not take a detective to see that Astro (or Sprout) doesn't like him very much. Which is fair! Astro is secretive, clearly. Rodger does not care for secrets. He respects everyone's rights to them, but he cannot help that he digs and digs and digs.

It's for this reason that he finds himself cornered by a particularly irate Astro, who seems to have found one of Rodger's research capsules on him. How embarassing, he really must be more careful about those.

"Why are you stalking me?" is the first thing Astro says to him, under his breath while Rodger debates the politeness of closing his room's door in Astro's face.

Considering Astro is one of the main stars of the Dandy's World cartoon, he doubts it's an action that his cartoon self would do: whether that be for plot reasons or narrative ones. Considering it is three am, however, and Rodger is not dressed for an interrogation, he shuts the door anyways.

Astro catches said door with his third arm. Ah, they're not going to politely ignore that fact anymore, then. Tricky situation then. Rodger does have endless questions about Astro's biology and how his mind juggles having multiple limbs, but consider he's being slowly cornered in his own room, now isn't the time.

"I'm not stalking you," Rodger replies, after realizing that quite some time has passed since Astro first asked his question.

Astro's one eye narrows. "Have you been following me around?"

"No," Rodger answers truthfully. He's very good at interviews, after all. He wonders which capsule Astro found, to make him this upset. Considering the fact Astro is angrily gestulating with all four hands, he can only assume it was one about said four hands. He thought that particular note was quite flattering, but oh well.

Astro's lower right hand makes a frustrated fist motion, going up and down. His upper set of arms is covering his face in --- well, one gets the point by now. Astro's lower left hand is open, palm facing the right, in a straight manner. He's saying something, but Rodger's noticing a bit too much to catch it.

Rodger's head hurts a little. Astro's eye catches Rodger's eye, and suddenly the blanket is back and covering all of Astro's limbs again.

"--ave you been documenting me because I'm a freak? Or what, is it because it's too alien, or it's just so facinating to you then, studying me like a circus animal," Astro continues ranting. Ah, Rodger did really space out there.

"No," Rodger clarifies again, still uncomfortably hunched over, "nothing of the sort. I research everyone, Astro." He would add an you're not special, but well, Glisten never takes that comment well, so he won't add it. Everyone is different and Rodger is learning that different is special.

That seems to put a stop to Astro's ranting. Rodger takes the chance to continue clarifying. "You cannot help entering our dreams, and I cannot help researching. I notice too much to ignore it, and you see too much of our dreams to ignore it either. You give us good dreams and I take notes and store them away as to not bother anyone."

Astro continues staring at him. Rodger is a little uncomfortable with eye contact, so he focuses on on the left of Astro's eye. Should he elaborate more?

"I don't want you digging around for information about me," Astro grits out.

Rodger feels a little helpless. "I cannot stop digging, Astro. I cannot help the things I notice."

Astro makes a little irratated sound. Rodger shifts uncomfortably. He has been caught unaware after all. "It's private," Astro snaps, "I didn't want you -- or anyone else, for that matter, knowing about my private business."

"I'm sorry," Rodger says, because he truly is, "I didn't mean to uncover something I shouldn't of." Another irratated sound. Oh, Razzle and Dazzle will be very upset that Rodger has upset Astro so. "I don't --" Astro takes a deep breath, leaning back against Rodger's door, "it's not fair. It's my secret. It's my business."

Ah. Injustice is something Rodger can handle very well. Astro is upset and Rodger has the ability to do something about that. "Perhaps," Rodger offers, "we should have this conversation later. When we're both well rested. For what it's worth, it is unfair."

Astro doesn't say anything. "Is this how you feel about me entering your dreams?"

Rodger makes a confused sound.

"Earlier," Astro says, "you said that you can't help noticing things like I can't help entering people's dreams."

The detective nods. "Does that upset you?" Astro asks.

"No," Rodger answers truthfully. He's still good at interviews, after all. "You cannot help it. It is your nature."

Astro doesn't seem any happier with that. He leaves, closing Rodger's door behind him. When Rodger is in the elevator, and tries to have the conversation Astro clearly wants to have, he is shut down.

He's not fine with that, but he cannot help that. Rodger was made based off a one demensional cartoon character. He was not supposed to have complex emotions. He keeps this to himself.

Regardless, Rodger is a detective. He can make educated guesses on his own time.

[creativepup]

Ghost Trick x Transistor crossover AU

spoilers + details below

Maybe you're looking for someone to blame Fighting for air while you circle the drain

Lynne is still an intrepid detective on the heels of a major case - until she's framed for the murder of Sissel. Sissel is now a digital ghost trapped within the Transistor. Together the two strangers must work together to undo the string of murders occuring across town and find out what's going on until it's too late.

Ray is possessing one of the OVC terminals at the beginning of the game, and guides you to the sandbox rooms.

Sissel can still reverse time (or at least watch replays). The [now digital] assassins replace the Process types (eg. Jeegos, Beauties, Dandies...). Each resident ghost you encounter unlocks a new 'trick' type in the Transistor.

Missile joins you for some segments of your travels.

Yomiel was originally the lead engineer on the Transistor project, and is now using the assassins as part of a revenge plot on the city.

Cabanela and Jowd are part of the elite team investigating the secret "digital manipulator", although they don't realize they've been infiltrated from the inside... They are also tracking down Lynne.

The confrontation at the Empty Set is with possessed Kamilla (and actually the first confrontation with Yomiel).

The confrontations with Cabanela and Jowd mirror Chapter 15.

Yomiel has been spying on Cabanela and the team via the body of Sissel-the-cat.

The park is Transistor Park.

That's as much as I've thought out so far: would love to hear if anyone has additions to add on! There's so many fun parallels between these two games.

(Also have thoughts on the Transistor characters in the Ghost Trick universe, but that one still needs a bit more fleshing out.)

[nwarrior777]

Martin, Papers, Fire. And Knife

a little draft I wrote laying in bed as coping mechanism today in the morning. writing my fav character smashing someone to blood pile is therapy

inspired by that 9 minutes animatic of that moment of canon burning statements.

...

- is it really so hard to believe that i hate you as much as others

- no but it's hard to believe that you will act up about it

...

...

- what are you doing martin

- just walking i guess. i can't act up against you right. so what's bad can happen if i will come closer

- *chuckle*

- hard to believe i can act up. huh. why? can you tell me why. it's interesting to hear the reason

- martin you are worthless, pathetic-

- mhm mhm mhm yeah yeah yeah. i asked why. why do you think i am like this

- *chuckle*

- i know the answer i just want to hear it

- oh really

- yeah

- you think you ready to hear it

- oh i am so ready Elias

- phh. okay

- your look. your voice. gestures, behavior. everything. it's everything martin. entire you are the reason

- you such a shithead Elias

- ahah-

- you couldn't even tell this straight.

- i am very fat guy in glasses, quiet mostly, with eye tic, trembling voice, bring tea to coworkers. that's that you mean by "pathetic" right?

- you said it

- and you mean it.

- * slow claps * very cool performance martin. cool. you are so cool martin. now lets finish it

- i didn't get yet to the best part

- enough. i don't have time for your kindergarden theater. and you talk too much today. but this [ burning paper sound ] i don't like it martin. and you will stop doing it right now

- if you didn't notice i am not sitting on table burning anything. i am in front of you. Standing right. In front of you

- good. but i am assuming you will come back to it as soon as i leave the room

- you will not leave this room Elias

- ...oookay. your attempts to whatever you doing bored me. not very exquisite way to shut you down, but, quick one.

*clears throat* [eye sound] your mother-

- [eye sound stops] hates me? oh i know. her eyes told me long before your

- ...

- ...[eye sound] but you don't know why-

- [eye sound stops] i know exactly why. father face. which i have sticked to mine. had. father face we didn't see near by - she - for years, me never, well, at least not enough time to remember his face by myself. and yes, she destroyed photoes. but what do you think, i didn't try to find him? you think i couldn't find images on internet? of course i did, Elias

[ steps closer ]

- of course i did.

what was it Elias? a try to make me not able to look in the mirror? me bursting in tears about it? i did it long time ago yeah. but i went through. I added something. Elias, i *Looove* looking in mirror, now *especially*. This fucker vanished after some pounds on, new haircut and glasses. He also wasn't into dandy poetic fashion, you know. more into dirty all in beer and chips shirt and shorts

so its not. a bother

- .... very cute family story martin but-

....

- *SOUND*

...

- is this cute?

...

- * cough, blood choking *

...

- is this cute Elias? a knife in your guts? going baaaaack

- *blood chocking, try to catch breath* * scream in pain *

- ....and foooorth

- *blood coughing hard choking on blood short breaths in try to catch air interrupted in cought*

- is it? fucking? cute?

( sounds of splashing blood, knife goes in and in and in)

---

- look. LOOK. IN MY EYES

- ---

- actually you know. i don't care what you see in me. i see myself. feel. much more about me, than others will ever tell.

- *blood cough* *unclear voice sound*

- oooh nonono. last word here will be mine

...

(sounds of splashing blood from fast, fast faster going up and in knife smashing meat, bones, skull, going through to the floor)

...

tape cassete click

[ronearoundblindly]

Threadbare (1)

Steve Rogers x Fashion Designer!Reader

Part One: Yield Strength (see series)

Summary: Steve gets to meet his favorite designer, and you get a surprise visitor at work.

Warnings: none. Maybe a bit of creepy behavior but not from Steve. Yes, I did just want to use the leather jacket gif for shiggles. What's it to ya? WC 3355

Steve Rogers hates stuffy functions. He hates the brown-nosing. He hates trying to convince people who have everything to give scraps to people with nothing. He hates watching the excess and indulgence, even when he knows it ends up giving something to those in need. He hates it. He hates the whole lot of these stupid, asinine—

Steve takes a breath and smooths his hand down the buttery fabric of a double-breasted jacket hanging next to his intended garment.

Ok, fine, he hates the functions, but he actually enjoys the dressing up part.

He didn’t used to. No. The only outfit outside of his Cap suit that ever truly fit him—before or after the serum—was his SSR uniform, and coming from a time of nothing, Steve accepted that as a huge win.

And then he woke up in this world of excess and—what do they call it? Fast-fashion?— realized that what should be easier to acquire was much, much harder to find: room to breathe.

Steve may roll his eyes at Tony’s custom everything, but he admits internally that at least Stark’s comfortable all the time. Steve would settle for being comfortable in his own skin.

This helps though, this gloriously draped, stiff in a supportive way, heavy in a grounding way, and shapely button down. He doesn’t need a whole suit tonight; it’s not that kind of event. In fact, Steve wasn’t specifically invited. He heard Tony talking about the new collection by the designer of this shirt—which happens to be the label for 90% of Steve’s dressier clothing at this point—and Steve outright volunteered himself to go with Tony.

See, Steve Rogers is now a big, broad guy, and it’s been an adjustment, as well as plain difficult, to gather a wardrobe that isn’t custom tailored due to his sheer size and proportions. The team jokes about his tight shirts, but if he buys things large enough for his shoulders, his waist swims in fabric. Steve had to live off of stretchy clothing for the first three years he was out of the ice. He wasn’t out of his Cap suit long enough for the investment to be worthwhile. Then it took another several years before he discovered Tovarich.

The man must know what it’s like to be big and broad, that’s for sure. Steve may not be much for high fashion, but he’s genuinely gotten so much comfort and enjoyment out of Mr. Tovarich’s work that Steve wants to thank him personally. For once, being Captain America is a good card to play to ensure he gets to meet the designer.

Steve adjusts his rolled sleeves a bit in the mirror, smirking at himself for being a bit of a dandy concerning his look right now, but he’s determined to have a good time out with Tony. It’s just a fashion show. How difficult can it be?

Really damn difficult, that’s what it is.

Steve isn’t prepared for the bizarre press interest in who is there instead of what is being shown. He’s used to cameras flashing at him—especially because the bright and loud pops of flashes were much worse in the ‘40s—but Steve’s in awe of the models’ complete indifference while walking a straight line with a straight face in some of the simplest, most magnificent men’s wear he’s ever seen.

If all he had to do was tick boxes on a list to order things, Steve would be in big trouble with a full bingo card and an empty wallet. It’d be worth it though.

Tony tries to talk to him every so often, but the music is outrageously loud. Steve can’t hear a thing.

He gets tapped on the shoulder by some women sitting behind him, and they try to say some more things he can’t hear.

Everyone rises to clap, and Steve joins in, overwhelmed by the fast pace of all the outfits on repeat, when the man on his other side accidentally elbows Steve and drops his program. The paper flutters to land in front of Tony’s feet, so Steve picks it up, hands it back, and the man makes an appreciative face before gesturing vaguely at the runway and mouthing his admiration. Steve nods and smiles, happy he’s not the only one fanboying over clothes.

The lights change in the venue. The photography and clapping stop. Tony starts yammering on about an after party, but Steve wants to meet the designer.

“Oh, Cap, that walk-and-wave was as close as you’re getting today. Tovarich is a hot commodity. I’ll just get you a fitting sometime.” He clamps a hand onto Steve’s shoulder and tilts his head toward the refreshments. “Shall we?”

Darn. Steve should have done more research on how fashion shows work, but he hates how invasive online snooping feels. It was fine when he was catching up on history and historical figures. However, most of the ‘news’ now is not news at all, so he avoids searching for information that way. He doesn’t ask question about Mr. Tovarich because, in theory, it’s none of Steve’s business and Steve may or may not be slightly ashamed at how obsessed he is with something as trivial as clothing.

Fashion is not something he thought about until very, very recently. The most time he’s spent worried about what he puts on is his tac suit, and the main features of that are being blade resistant and bullet proof. Those things don’t exactly interest him so much as they are in his best interest.

So Steve is rather disappointed by the outcome of the evening, but he’ll manage. For once, he’s got a tiny bright light of something to look forward to in the form of a few more dress shirts and a very sharp vest.

He goes on with life as usual.

Months later and they’re doing this thing.

It’s called the Hellfire Gala, and apparently, it’s a big, big deal. Steve’s told everyone goes all out, that he’ll need to be dressed to the nines, and he realizes this is his opportunity.

Tony’s elated to make the arrangements for him with the Tovarich Atélier and plans to go with him. He wouldn’t stop grumbling about how awkward Steve might be, raving that he can’t have Steve getting a bad rap under his clout, so Steve shows up nervous.

Tony sends a text saying he’s running late. Of course he is, today of all days.

Steve shuts his eyes and lowers his head in gratitude that there are only two seamstresses when he first arrives. The ladies—one older and one younger—offer refreshments and ask a few questions about the event and what styles he might be interested in. He explains the getup needs to highlight the ‘Cap’ persona since the gala is a celebration of their work as Avengers, but other than that, it’s the-sky’s-the-limit for Tovarich.

The younger seamstress smiles at that and calls it ‘fun.’

Sure. That’s one word for it. Steve would also call it daunting.

As instructed, he stands on a small platform while the ladies bustle about speaking quietly to each other. Steve hears Tony ring the reception bell before any measurements have started, and he heaves out a sigh of relief.

“In time for the good stuff, am I?” Stark winks.

“Always perfectly welcome, Mr. Stark,” you, the younger woman, say politely. “Would you care for anything to drink?”

“Uh,” Tony smooths his hand down his current suit front, eyes flickering to Steve, “have you met me?”

Your smile widens. “Dominica, please,” you signal to your coworker.

Between your fingers, you’ve folded a scrap of paper, something you scribbled while Steve stood awkwardly on the pedestal (which isn’t to say he has stopped standing awkwardly), and Tony snatches the paper from your grasp, unfolding it to make a challenging, inquisitive face.

Steve huffs and glares, praying his friend doesn’t start hitting on Tovarich’s employee before the man even shows up. Steve isn’t the one to be worried about.

Stark takes Dominica’s proffered tumbler of brown liquor, saying nothing.

You are a ninja with the tape measure, gentle hands sliding over his chest and waist and—Steve swallows—his hips, all while rattling off numbers…which no one writes down. Steve moves his arms and legs when told. When you’re kneeling on the edge of the platform, eye level with his crotch, Steve decides to distract himself and get some answers.

“I’ve been looking forward to my first meeting with Mr. Tovarich. When might he arrive?”

Tony clears his throat, wincing. “Not possible, buddy.”

Steve tenses.

“I thought that—“

“You can’t meet him for the the first time.” Tony holds up a hand before Steve can move. “You already did. She’s measuring the distance between your balls and the floor.”

Steve startles out a ‘what,’ snapping his legs shut with your hand between his thighs.

“Captain Steve Rogers, please meet your favorite designer,” Tony beams, shoving his tongue against the inside of his cheek and hiking up his eyebrows.

Steve shrinks, face burning.

“Hello, Captain Rogers,” you introduce yourself with a lovely smile, “I will…need my hand to make your suit, sir.”

His open-mouthed impression of a fish is cut short by standing at attention, releasing the seal of his thighs. “Yes, ma’am. Sorry.”

“Very polite,” you mutter before turning to Tony. “Mr. Stark, was that entirely necessary?”

“For the look alone, yes. My god, I’ll pay you again just to watch now that he knows.”

You push off the platform and practically skip over to Tony, reading over his shoulder. “How did I do?”

Tony looks at the piece of paper. “Damn it. Spot on,” Tony grunts.

“And that means…?”

“That I leave you alone for the rest of the consult,” Tony whines. “Fine, but make it worth it, buddy. Lady gets paid by the hour.” He snaps his fingers playfully. “Dominica, let’s take room two, my dear.”

Steve’s not sure what to do with his hands and mistakenly remains up high on the pedestal while you pull out a notebook and sit at a small table.

“Oh!” You look up at him with tender, lively eyes. “You may step down now.”

He feet seem to thunder to the floor even against the carpet. “I didn’t mean to—I just assumed that—I’m sorry, Misses—”

“It’s Miss,” you correct him. “And don’t worry. You are not the first, and you won’t be the last. Have a seat, Captain.”

“Steve.”

“Steve,” you correct yourself this time. “I’ll tell you a secret. I prefer that most people assume a man runs this business. You get to see people’s true colors when they finally find out.”

That doesn’t help Steve’s hot flush of embarrassment.

“You are one of the good ones. I can tell,” you add, adjusting to a fresh page in the notebook and marking the top corner.

In the silence Steve asks, “so you already knew my size?”

“You aren’t so different from my standard cut.”

“No,” he allows. Of course, he should have known that seeing as everything he buys from your label fits him so well. He kicks himself internally while trying not to frown at his slip up. It is, however, easy to keep a smile while basking in the glow of yours.

You pop your shoulder up into a shrug, lips morphing into a wry tease. “And I’m pretty good at what I do.”

Amazing, Steve thinks to himself. You’re amazing…at what you do.

Your elbow rests against the table, hand cupping your jaw as you hold Steve’s gaze.

“Some even call me a master of the male form.”

His swallow is deafening, which only makes you happier, and he looks down at his knee, rubbing his pant leg while his face heats.

“But for today’s purposes—“ you lean back in your chair, twirling your pencil playfully, a magic wand in your brilliant hands “—why don’t you tell me what makes me your favorite designer so I can make you my favorite client?”

Why’d you have to be so pretty? Why do you need him for so few fittings?

Steve has to stop himself from spending a Tony Stark-sized fortune on clothing for the pleasure of walking into your store and seeing you alone—well, in the hope of seeing you at all. Dominica is very sweet, sassy in a hard ass mom kind of way, and she’s one of four total assistants you have at the shop. Steve’s met three of them.

There’s just only one of you, and you’re busy.

Between his duties with the Avengers, actually sleeping, and debating with himself about what constitutes looking desperate, Steve is lucky to have caught you in-house only half the times he visits.

And then he tore a shirt. In fact, he tore three shirts, and to his credit, two of them were by accident. The third…uh, there’s a chance that when Steve exclaimed “oh shoot, I didn’t see that nail poking out” that he 100% saw that nail and deliberately brushed himself against that wall. He also may or may not have deliberately done it in front of Tony, faking that it was no big deal, because now he has the excuse that Tony is the one who told him to go see you.

Yeah, Steve agrees, if you say so.

He’s all excitement and nerves again when he rounds the corner of your street, but then the adrenaline shoots through Steve’s veins for a different reason.

A squad car has jumped the curb in front of your shop, lights flashing, doors left open, and Steve can hear lots of tense voices.

It’s a stressful enough day without the uninvited guest. Not many people—who know how you work and are not assholes—would dare to show up within a month of the Spring Show, without an appointment, and demand a rush job.

A rush job on a custom suit that you explicitly said could not be rushed before its scheduled time, mind you, but the surprise visitor doesn’t care.

Richard Fisk is broad. He has dirty blond hair that falls in front of his eyes when he tilts his head to smile. He often travels with a whole team of other imposing men.

The son of Wilson ‘Kingpin’ Fisk, however, is a prime example of personality souring good looks. Where it’s bashful and adorable that Steve Rogers hides his smile, Richard barely bridles his menacing entitlement.

You hate him, but he’s not a person you can outright refuse. He makes all of your assistants uncomfortable. Fisk is needlessly hostile to Tarik, who is thankfully not here today; he’s a creepy dick to Abby, who you insist stays in the fitting room with Anja, your longtime client who trusts you to push the envelope tastefully for a redheaded woman in her sixties; and he almost made Jules quit because he couldn’t follow instructions during a consult. Dominica stands in as the perfect buffer when she’s here, but the eldest of the Tovarich Atélier employees is currently on the other side of the city for a VIP delivery.

Your busy, busy day just got much harder.

His trio of beefy entourage flanks Fisk at the front of your shop.

“Here for my suit, sugar,” he drawls, flicking his used toothpick into a corner on the floor.

He eyes Abby as she shuts herself and Anja away from his direct ire, and although this leaves you alone, it stops your worry for their safety in addition to your own.

“As it stipulates in the commission, we take at least—“

“Those little hands are free now, I see,” he spits, stepping within an few inches of your face. His breath is foul and hot.

The aggression has you stumbling back, smashing into a side table and knocking a box of supplies to the ground.

“How ‘bout you get to work.”

You take in a heavy, fortifying, and quiet gasp. “Per your order, the fabric is manufactured off-site because teal is not a standard color. It takes time to produce. This was made very clear when you signed.”

Fisk flashes that menacing smile. “We can wait. One of these fine men can…keep you focused till you do your job.”

The condescending tone and disrespect of your work ethic spark flames of rage in your gut. Even though terror still simmers beneath, it’s too easy to let an insult fly.

“You’re lucky I’m even making it. The all white one last summer was a stretch, but teal? On you? Not something you can pull off.”

He lunges forward again. “Keep up the cheek, and I’ll lock you in my basement until I get everything I—“

“Ma’am,” a cop bursts through the shop door, “we got a call…” The officer goes quiet after one look at Fisk.

Abby must have phoned after hearing you knock supplies down, and you’re grateful, yes, but police are of little help with this guy. Cops wouldn’t dare ruffle Kingpin’s feathers or his awful son’s by proxy, but if you roll over now, you’ll never get back out from under him.

The only way forward is to put your foot down.

“Mr. Fisk, I wouldn’t make you a black and white striped three-piece if you did chain me in a basement. You’re a spring, and I have standards.”

“Ma’am,” the officer warns, his partner standing nervously in the open doorway.

“What kind of professional would I be if I let you walk around looking like a mental asylum inmate? I’m doing you a favor!”

Richard brandishes another toothpick. “The customer is always right, sugar.”

It’s stupid. You know it’s stupid to taunt him and yell. Being insulted and diminished doesn’t make you want to be smart though; it makes you want to be right.

Your hands ball into fists of fear and rage. “It’s my name on the label,” you bark, “and I could just refund you to get you the hell out!”

Now you’ve really done it.

The boy gangster’s face twists and his oral fixation goes limp in disbelief. No one talks to Richard Fisk that way, least of all women.

His men step between both the cops and their boss, leaving Fisk himself to grab a solid wood tie box from the nearest counter and fling it at your face.

Your arms fly up to block it, but nothing ever connects, nor is there a crash behind you.

An officer’s voice wavers from across the room. “Uh, I’m sure this can all be worked out. No need to…start anything.”

You’re ashamed to say that your hands are shaking when they return to your sides and reveal an entirely different bulky blond.

Steve Rogers casually holds the caught box in his hands, staring daggers as he shifts squarely in front of you to block Fisk.

“This doesn’t concern you, Captain,” the bully grunts. “Piss off.”

Steve strides forward to replace the box neatly and plants himself inches from Fisk’s face.

“Can’t do that. She’s expecting me.” He turns back to you. “Ready?” Steve asks with a tight smile.

You swallow down one iota of your alarm and clear your throat.

“Yes—” the word cracks but you hope familiarity will scare off Fisk for now “—thank you, Steve.”

That seems to be Captain America’s cue to handle everyone else at odds in the storefront. By the time you get control of your trembling limbs, Steve has shown Fisk the door and promised the officers that you’ll be looked after.

Abby peeks out of the fitting room, surprised to see only Steve.

“Did they send you instead?”

She opens the door wider for Anja to see.

The redhead quirks an eyebrow. “Call the police more often, honey. They’ve upped their game.”

The now bashful, broad blond tilts his head, rogue hair falling across his face. His blue eyes sparkle beneath long lashes while he apologizes for lying, but you can’t for the life of you figure out why he’d feel guilty.

“I…” Steve stumbles. “I don’t have an appointment. I just wanted to see you.”

Currently estimating four parts to this grumbling into the ether but who knows. I clearly cannot be trusted to estimate length anymore...

[Next Part]

You can find more to read on my Main Masterlist! For readers under 18, please see the Light Masterlist which contains all-age-friendly works.

@supraveng @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @femefetalelevelingup @darsynia

[intervalart]

Hey, it‘s that same anon again! *is gripped by you* oh wow okay haha 😅 do you…do you also wanna talk about Mad’s headcanons? I have ONE about him, that he’s from San Francisco (and i guess also that he’s Spanish 😅) you can talk about these guys as much as you want. They’re in my head too 😁

SORRY ANON, I HAVE BEEN FIGHTING FOR MY LIFE IRL, YOU DON’T EVEN WANNA KNOW HOW DUMB ITS BEEN.

But here I am! It’s now! So here’s some Mad Dog Headcanons!

I also hc that he’s from San Francisco actually! But I Go a bout it slightly different. xD For one thing, I hc that he’s at least half Chinese (possibly half so that he’s at least Passing so he doesn’t get slurs heaved upon him immediately upon entering a room), so he knows Some Cantonese™, but his family wanted him to speak English whenever possible, so he's kinda rusty on it. (He probably knows some Spanish too, but isn’t as fluent as Sundown)

But let’s start from the top;

(Some stupid pictures of the stupid dummy to break up the cut)

His mom used to be… well, a prostitute. If you called her that to his face he’d probably kill you though. (She wasn’t the nicest or gentlest lady since she’d had a hard life, but she still instilled “respect women” into him since she’d seen all kinds of shit in her old job.) Because of this, Mad Dog never knew his dad, lived with his mom, aunt, and probably an uncle (a large family overall), and had to live down jeers from other kids about his mom being a “woman of the night”.

He was driven to prove himself though, cuz he couldn't stand to inherit the fish shop or be around his stifling family, he wanted to do more with his life and make it his own. So he basically worked his ass off to be anything but blue collar. Refined, educated, wealthy, etc. (if anything to distance himself from his past as much as possible)

Eventually, he got himself a gig in the theater, sometimes acting on stage with his troupe members, other times working backstage with all the fly system. (Which is why he’s both a total fruit cake [theater kid], and why he’s good at traps and technical stuff when helping set the traps). He was basically living out his dreams… until the theater was foreclosed and shut down. (I want to write a comic about this someday, but drawing backgrounds gives me agita)

He hit the booze, coping from the perceived failure of his career, but he was too proud to go back to his family’s fish shop (cuz remember, he's the most stubborn guy ever, and I don’t think his relationship with the family is Great™), so in an act of desperation (despite protests from his theater pals), he picked himself up by the bootstraps and started bounty hunting to pay the bills.

He was crafty with it, so it worked in his favor for a while… But there’s a distinct point in time where he hasn't had to kill a man yet, and a tiny part of him wonders if he can. Like… he’s acted it out on stage, and he’s stood up for himself multiple times in fights, but he’s never been directly responsible for killing anyone. (yet)

This goes out the window pretty quick though, cuz quickly proves he can kill a man when it's in self defense. (his trip to the bounty board in Texas was not uneventful, and his dandy-ass is painting a target on himself with how he dresses lmaoooo)

After that, he quickly builds his reputation and, it kinda goes from there lol. So now time for bullet points.

Mad Dog wants you to think he got his name because of his stubborn personality and unwillingness to let go of his target (It is, partly), but he actually got his name because in one of his first bar fights in Texas, he absolutely 100% bit a guy. (He doesn’t talk about that part as much.)

He’s is a pretty good cook! Since the family had a fish shop, he learned how to cook them, but he expanded on his own culinary vocabulary himself.

However, he’s not very good at sewing. His mom or his aunt would usually fix his clothes for him, the theater had a seamstress/costumer, and he always paid for tailors to make his suits for him. He just never had a reason to learn.

Also, his taste in food can make him a bit of a food snob. He always insists that he do the cooking, cuz he is… Not impressed by Sundown’s cooking.

He is also a good dancer, but instead of from dodging bullets like Sundown regularly does, it’s for fun and fancy purposes (see also Texas Jitterbug).

I have actually previously discussed this, but I actually think that Mad Dog miiiiiight not be the most accurate shooter on his own, so he relies on the longer barrel of the Buntline Special to improve his accuracy. (Even though trying to use it for quickdraw is really REALLY stupid, but that’s another post).

Tying into stupid things…. ugh. -holding my head-. He’s clever. He’s crafty. He’s tactical. He can come up with some of the smartest and ingenuitive things you’ve ever seen. And he is the stupidest motherfucker on the planet. Bro ABSOLUTELY has high INT and low WIS. He wears a BLACK SUIT IN THE DESERT FOR FUCK’S SAKE. AND EYELINER. IN THE DESERT.

Anyways, that’s all I’ve got for now, and again, this is not tying into AU iterations, where things will be slightly different (especially in BBFF and Roleswap… And Duende AU, but that requires knowing OC lore)

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk, now I’m gonna go throw MD in the wood chipper, bye.

[purplerose244]

Total Drama Wedding Rush (Alenoah fic I'm workin on)

THE ALENOAH BRAINROT PEOPLE 🥴🥴🥴 This one is super self indulgent I think, it's just me wanting to write them falling hopelessly in love with each other in the most inopportune situations I can throw at them 😛

This is basically a crossover of all TD series in a way, and although the focus is on the two stubborn geniuses, some of my favorite ships are definitely there 🥰🥰

So here what I got so far:

Set maybe 5 years after Total Drama Island reboot, TDI contestants are around 35 years old while the reboot contestants are over 20 (LIKELY NOT CANON SHUSH 😅)

Total Drama Wedding Rush is a coupled race (Chris is totally NOT still salty about not hosting The Ridonculous Race and he is NOT retaliating with this show 🤥), with a bit of a McLean twist later on...

There's a million for grabs, obvi 🤑🤑

Couples will go through wedding-related challenges, wearing suits and dresses, tasting tests (oh boy), meeting the parents, all the way to the walk to the altar

It's not a real wedding though

Seriously Chris cannot stress this enough, he would never lie about this

... no, for real, it's not an actual wedding 😅

Chris wanted to make it real and hide it until the end to scare to death some contestants but his stupid marketing agent said no

Noah decides to join one last reality show with Owen before committing to his new job

All the most iconic couples of all TD series are allowed, Noah didn't think him and Owen were gonna get in but they did

He will try to find out the reason during the show because something feels fishy to him

Yes there is a reason

Some other couples are Trent and Gwen, Duncan and Courtney, Julia and MK, Shawn and Jasmine, Emma and Chase... (to be determined if such couples are a thing or they're here to collaborate for the prize)

So far I can 100% confirm Rajbow, Zoke, Samkota and Shasmine 😍😍😍

It is all fine and dandy at first, reunions, laughter, love... until Chris decides to mix up the couples first challenge 🙃🙃

Contestants looked too comfortable

To regain the chance to be with your "significant other" in this game now, you HAVE to win. The winners will get to stay in the Honeymoon Suite, a place with all the comfort and luxury for a couple (😏😏😏), until the next challenge

All other couples stay at the Saltysun Cabin (Chris is insanely proud of this one), one room for each couple with the least amount of hygiene and livability 🤢

The worst couple is up to elimination and the others vote who of the two will leave

If someone is left alone they can still participate to the challenges it will be extra hard for one person, and if they lose they'll get eliminated immediately

Obviously, Noah gets the eel 😶

Yes Alejandro got in with Heather, but their status seems to be unknown

Let's just say it will take a while before team Alenoah will win the chance to choose someone else as their partners

Neither of them are happy about it

... yet 😉😉

[graciegoeskrazy]

love ur healy reader writes. do u write 4 taylor swift? can u do one where she and reader get in a fight and she runs away to find matty because the two are very close? up to you. xx.

when we are together

matty healy + teen!swift!reader

warnings: absent father, running away, yelling

a/n: so cute imma cry

Matty didn’t expect to hear a knock at his front door that morning, And he most definitely didnt expect to find you. When he opened the door he was met with your gaze, giving a look that said, ‘I can explain.’

“What the fuck?” He said.

You brought nothing except your backpack with you that only carried your wallet, computer, some school things, and other miscellaneous things. “I need to talk to you-” You said, readjusting your backpack.

“What are you doing here?”

“Trying to talk to you-”

“Where’s your mum?” He was so confused. That confusion though would soon turn to anger.

You looked down at your feet and whispered the next part barley audible for Matty to hear. “Back home…”

He couldn't believe you would do such a thing like this. “...You did not-”

“I had to come! We got in a fight and I left and I didn’t know where else to go…”

“Does she know you’re here?” He asked, already knowing the answer. He grew nervous when you didn’t reply. “Y/n…” He pushed.

You shyly have up. “Not exactly, no.”

“Y/n Swift!”

“I’m sorry!”

“No you’re not-”

“No, I’m not.” You said, smiling a little His face softened just a tad. You took in a breath before continuing. “I didn't know where to go. I just knew I wanted to get out of there.”

He did his iconic pissed-off-parental sigh. “Get inside. Now.”

“Yes sir…” You said as you walked through.

As the door slammed shut behind you and Matty, George walked in from the other room. He, as always, was happy to see you.

“Woah! What are you doing here?” George asked, with a smile on his face.

Matty caught up from behind before you got the chance to speak. “This idiot decided to run away from home!”

“I’m not an idiot.” You bit back.

“Traveling 3 hours by yourself to your mother's ex-boyfriend’s house because you got into one stupid argument is something an idiot would do.”

You just sighed and sat on the couch. George let out an audible giggle.

“Give me your phone,” Matty said, reaching his palm out.

“Why?” You handed it to him even though you questioned his moves.

“I’m calling your mother.” He said, nonchalantly.

“What?!”

“If I call her from my phone she won’t answer.” He kept walking toward the back room.

“I’m not giving you my password.” You crossed your arms.

“Don’t need it your phone still unlocks with my face I.D.”

“Whatever.” You fell back into the couch.

“I’ll be back.”

Your gaze found the ceiling and you sighed. It’s the first time you’ve been still mentally and physically for hours. Geroge took notice of you from the kitchen.

“You alright?” He asked.

“Dandy.” You replied, not moving a muscle.

…

You could hear some dialogue coming from the other room, but none to make out a full conversation. At least they aren’t screaming at each other this time, you told yourself. Matty opened the door and walked back into he living room. George had left awhile ago.

“You’re spending the night here. Tomorrow morning I’m sending you on a train back to London.” Matty said, not giving you much choice in the decision.

“Okay.”

He sighed. “How did you get here anyway?”

“Took a bus,” You said, nonchalantly.

“Jeez, kid.” He said. You just shrugged.

“What did you guys fight about?”

“Life.”

“Life?”

“My life.”

“What about your life?”

“How much I hate it.”

“I need context, love.”

You finally sat up and faced him, looking him directly in the eyes.

“I haven’t seen my mother in almost a year.”

“That’s an exaggeration-”

“It’s not!” You cut him off. Matty stayed silent and you took that as a sign to keep going.

“She’s always working. On the tour, on a new album or music. T’s just always work work work.”

“I can’t blame her.” Matty said, shrugging.

“Yeah well, you don’t have a teenage daughter who you also need to take of.”

“Okay, so let me get this straight. You felt sad because your mom just happens to be the biggest pop star in the world, so you ran away from home, traveled nearly 4 hours by yourself from one of the biggest cities in the world, just to come and cry to me-”

“I have no one else!” You shouted.

Matty sighed. You continued.

“I’m constantly on a plane to New York or somewhere I’ve never been. Yeah, sure, I’m with my mom but I’m never with her because she’s always performing or writing or spending every free moment of her time in a studio. I miss my school. I miss the friends I had. I can’t talk to them anymore because of time changes or whatever and They’ve already moved on! They’ve already found someone to replace me, they’re fine without me.”

“Y/n, you-”

“My dad still won’t talk to me.”

Matty stayed quiet. He knew that was the real reason you were acting like this.

“He won't answer my calls. I’ve left countless voicemails and texts, even emails, and I have received nothing from him. Even if he wanted to, Mom wouldn't let me see him.”

Matty looked down. You had tears coming out of your eyes by this point.

“So sorry if I ruined your evening, but right now I’m feeling more alone than I have ever been and you are the only person that has actually listened to me in the past 10 months.”

You sat back in the couch, finally giving him a chance to speak. He wasn’t sure what to say though.

“I’m sorry.” Was all he could think of.

“But whatever is happening, you can't just run away like that-”

“I know. I know, and I’m sorry.” You said, sitting up and whipping your tears.

He sat next to you on the couch and pulled you in a hug. “I know you are.”

You cried into his chest for what felt like hours. Matty didn’t mind though. He would do it for however long you needed.

…

The rest of the night consisted of eating trash food you made George pick up and watching a movie that you fell asleep to halfway though. When the morning came, you packed the few things you had up, and got into the car with Matty. The car ride was silent. It took everything in you to not turn to him and say ‘Please, please, please! Let me stay! I can’t go back there!’ but you ended up deciding against it. He bought the ticket and handed it to you. He saw the few tears starting to lip out and whipped them with his thumb, pushing a few stray hairs behind your ear while he was at it.

“Next time you’re having a mental crisis just…call me first, okay?”

You smiled and let out a small chuckle before finally looking up at him. “No promises.”